Crossed Paths
by Sakata Ri Houjun
Summary: One evening, a bandit who was known simply as Genrou happened to encounter a monk named Houjun, leading the pair to an interesting relationship. Based loosely on their respective Gaiden novels.
1. Default Chapter

Crossed Paths

By Sakata Ri Houjun

Warning: Lemon

~**************~

The day was slowly fading into night.  The streets of the town of Guzen were being deserted as the locals made their way to their homes.  All save for one lone figure that was still wandering the streets, his fiery hair matching the colors of the setting sun.

He was not going home because his home was not found in this small town.  No, this youth's home was located far away to the south in a range of holy mountains, protected by an unlikely crew.  And he missed his home and those whom he had come to think of as his brothers even though he had only lived there but a year.  He wanted to go back and be with them again, to see his friends, but he had a mission in life now and he wasn't about to quit just because he was feeling a little homesick.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, the young man shook his head remorsefully, utterly aware of the need to find a place to sleep before it got too dark.  Perhaps he'd even get himself a bottle of sake to warm him up, but he hated drinking alone, missing the rowdy company of his friends.  But then again, he never felt completely happy in their company either, as though he were missing something in his life.

Then suddenly he jerked his head up.  Funny, but he could have sworn that he had heard a scream just now.  Thinking it was just his imagination, he swore to himself and kept shuffling down the road towards an inn he knew was just ahead.  But then, it came again, louder this time, closer.  There was no mistaking it; he had heard a scream.  

He looked up just as a small child came rushing towards him, her turquoise braids flailing behind her and her blue eyes wide with terror.  "Iya!" she shouted as loudly as a panic constricted voice would allow.  She scrambled wildly through the streets, desperately trying to escape whomever it was that was chasing her.  "Stay away!"

She did not stop until she had crashed into the young man who had watched all this with concern.  She then landed on the ground, hard.  From behind her approached several vilely grinning men.  They continued to draw dangerously near, undaunted as the girl gained her footing and proceeded to hide behind the youth.

The young man could feel her tiny hands gripping his pant leg and trembling with fear.  He sighed as he rolled his eyes, knowing he had no choice but to butt in and help this child.  His full attention was then turned towards the pedophiles that seemed not to take heed of his presence as they slowed their pace and chuckled evilly.

He crossed his arms and cleared his throat.  "Oi.  Would one of you yarous mind telling me what the fuck you think you're doing?"

The men blinked as if finally noticing him for the first time.  "That girl is our property," one burly looking brute spoke up, the others nodding in affirmation.  "We're simply taking what's ours."

The youth shook his head and sighed.  "Is that so?"

"What business is it of yours anyways, kid?" another brute joined in.  "It's no concern of yours."

"But that's where you're wrong, assholes."  He reached behind him and withdrew his sword, a parting gift of his friends back home.  "I can't simply hand over a helpless child, even if she is a girl, to a bunch of shit-sucking pedophiles like you."

At his challenge, the four thugs immediately removed their own weapons and assumed clumsy, but threatening poses.  The youth couldn't help himself and let down his guard to laugh.  He just found the whole scenario too damn funny.  The pedophiles glanced at each other in confusion before advancing.

The young man took his fighting stance then.  The slavers were big, but slow.  His first attack caught the closest one off guard and, with a quick kick, he had laid the brute on the ground.  Not losing his momentum, he propelled himself forward to tackle the next slaver.  Pinning the man down with his weight, he quickly knocked out the man by bringing down his sword hilt against his temple.

He then pushed himself to his feet and glared at the remaining two thugs, bearing his fangs menacingly.  They took a step back in fear, but held their ground nonetheless.  The youth had to give them points for guts, but not for brains.  Within moments, all four were unconscious on the ground.

The young man spat to the side in disgust before resheathing his sword and turning to face the child.  She was looking up at him with those innocent blue eyes, wide with not fear but amazement.  He knelt before her.

"Are you okay, girl?"

She managed a shaky nod.  "Hai.  Domo arigatou."

"Oh that?" he grinned.  "It was nothing.  Where do you live?  I mean, ain't your mother worried that you're out this late?"

"Iie."  She grinned at him then, almost idiotically.

Frowning, the youth decided to try a different tactic.  "What's your name?"

But before she could answer, there came a frantic shout from behind the redhead.  "Nyan Nyan!  Where are you, no da?"

The young man stood and turned around, only to find himself facing a strange sight that caught him completely off guard.  A young and slender man with narrow, slanted eyes and short blue hair came bounding around the corner.  He was dressed in the vestibules of a monk, a shakujo jangling in his hand as he approached the pair.   His gaze was drawn first to the little girl that had just been saved and then landed on the redhead.  And somehow, the youth could sense anger emanating from the stranger, even as his golden eyes appraised the striking picture he presented.

"Dare da?" the newcomer asked as he skidded to a halt in front of the youth.

"I should be asking you the same damn thing," he retorted as he stepped protectively in front of the girl, certain that this man was also after her.

The cerulean-haired man held out his staff in a threatening manner as he took a step closer to the youth.  "I demand that you leave this child be.  She does not concern you in the least, no da."

"And I suggest that you had better back away from me with that fucking stick before you join your buddies there on the ground."  The youth's hand slowly slid behind him for the handle of his sword, convinced now that this was yet another slaver coming to annoy him.

But before he could even touch his weapon, there came a blinding flash of light and the young man found himself on his back with the breath knocked out of him.  A slight jangle of copper rings followed this and the cerulean-haired stranger stood menacingly over him, his features becoming obscured in the fading light of day.

"Those men are not my buddies, and you made a serious mistake by assuming that I'm associated with them, no da.  The child is my responsibility and you had no right in accusing me of harming her, na no da."

The youth blinked a few times in shock before replying.  "Yeah right.  What the fuck was that light?"

"Magic, no da."

The youth shook his head in an attempt to regain his bearings.  "You said the girl's yours, huh?  Can you prove that you're not some pedophile slaver like those assholes I downed earlier?"

The stranger sighed before looking up at the girl who had watched the whole scene occur with curiosity.  "Nyan Nyan, come here, no da."

"Hai, Houjun-kun."  She immediately flounced over to the man's side with a giggle.

The youth shook his head again, this time in bewilderment.  "Hn.  I guess then she's yours all right.  Demo, you should keep better track of your daughter."

The cerulean-haired man jerked at this comment and then chuckled.  "She's not my daughter, no da.  Nyan Nyan is my charge and a very rambunctious one at that, na no da."

"Still," the youth continued as he sat up and ran his fingers through his fiery red hair.  "You should have been watching her.  I had to save her from those damn slavers over there."

It was then that the cerulean-haired man took notice of the four unconscious brutes that the youth had attacked earlier.  "You took them all out, no da?"

"Yep."

"Then I suppose I should thank you, no da."  He looked back down at the youth and smiled as he extended his hand to help him to his feet.  "I'm Houjun, no da."

"You can call me Genrou."

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Houjun found himself unable to tear his eye away from Genrou's enticing golden orbs ever since their gazes first collided.  Before him was the most imposing, yet enticing, man he had ever met and he could feel some sort of connection between them that he had yet to discern with his magic.  For some reason, he felt drawn to the fiery youth who had managed to not only take out four oversized thugs, but down several cups of alcohol as well.

Genrou had decided to invite them to stay at the inn where he was planning on spending the night.  At the mention of having no money, the youth had offered to pay, saying that Nyan Nyan needed somewhere safe to sleep tonight and also that it could be his apology for the misunderstanding earlier.  However, Houjun felt that it was he who must owe the youth something for fearlessly saving his charge without any regard to his safety.

Now the little girl was asleep in one of the rooms that Genrou had arranged for them to occupy tonight.  Houjun had opted to stay in the tavern and get something to eat, the youth insisting that he eat a good warm meal.  Now the two men sat together at one of the tables in the tavern, sharing a meal but not the sake that the young man had ordered. He had long since discarded the mask now that Nyan Nyan wasn't in the room.

He remembered the reaction he got because of the false paper face he wore to placate the young child who was scared of his scar.  He had been afraid that the youth would also be disgusted with his face, but surprisingly Genrou had blinked twice, blushed, and then shrugged his shoulders as he mumbled something about a friend he had who also had a scar on his face.

Houjun lowered his head bashfully as he thought about how the young man's fiery temper and quick mind attracted him more than anyone or anything else had for a very long time.  He then grimaced ruefully.  He had been taught to endure all difficulties with patience and forgiveness, but just a few hours ago he had been forgiven after harming this man who he could now perhaps call friend.

"Oi.  You're not eating."

Houjun looked up, a pink stain coloring his cheeks.  "Gomen nasai, no da.  I was only just wondering where a young man like you managed to get this much money, na no da," he lied, hoping that the young man wouldn't be able to discern his true thoughts.

"Oi.  I ain't that young.  I just turned seventeen."  Genrou frowned as he poured another cup for himself.

Houjun chuckled.  "That is young, no da."

"Well, you don't look any older than me.  Mind telling me what your age is?"

"Twenty-four, na no da." 

"Shit.  Well, um, it shouldn't really matter where I got the money.  I have it and you're getting a free room and board because of it."

Houjun averted his gaze, finding himself hard pressed in forming the right words to express his gratitude, trying to fill in the silence that stretched between them.  But before he could speak, Genrou did.

The youth, who had focused an unwavering golden stare on the cerulean-haired man before him, found the havoc Houjun inspired within his body unfamiliar.  "Do I seem like a criminal to you so something?  Am I so fucking horrible that you can't stand to look at me?"

"You're beautiful, no da!"  The words flew from Houjun's lips before he even realized that he even thought them.  He immediately stiffened.  "I-I mean…"

"Well…" Genrou trailed off as he blushed deeply, not knowing if the heat in his stomach came from the booze.  "I, uh, I guess after living with bandits for almost a year, I suppose it comes with the territory…"

"You're a bandit, no da?"

"Where'd you think I got the money from?  I mean, what about you?  What kind of occupation are you in since you're broke and wandering around with a child?"

"I'm a monk, no da."

"Monk?  That'll explain why you don't have any money on you."

"Well, monks do take vows of poverty as well as chastity, na no da."

That last comment caught Genrou's attention.  "Chastity?  Why would anyone want to take vows of chastity?"

Blush burning and gaze downcast, Houjun choked back a nervous giggle in an attempt at a delicate explanation.  "Such vows are spoken by the few who freely give themselves over to a temple's service, no da."

"And have you?" Genrou asked as he reached over, a gentle forefinger hooking under the older man's chin.

But the monk didn't answer, only blushed deeper as a strange shiver rushed through his spine at the question.  Then more of the younger man's words poured over him like warm honey. 

"Do all monks have eyes that can see forever?"

Houjun suddenly became utterly aware of Genrou, as if they were the only two in the room.  He remembered how his two dearest friends had also been fascinated with his eyes.  Old eyes, they had called them.  They said that even as a small child that his gaze held so much wisdom deep within.  But never once did he feel overly gifted.  But clearly his eyes had captivated Genrou as he had been by the younger man's.

"I…I think I should..."

"Hai?"

"I think I should go and check on Nyan Nyan now, no da."

Genrou pulled his hand away and smiled as though he knew something the monk didn't.  "Of course."

"Where's our…my room, na no da?"

The bandit stood and tossed a few coins on their table before leading Houjun up a flight of stairs, stopping at the second floor landing.  He led the older man down a long hallway, passing doors to either side of them.  Just as they reached a narrow stairway, Genrou stopped at the last door to their left.

"Uh, this is my room, in case you or Nyan Nyan might need me for anything," he said as he reached over and squeezed the monk's hand. 

Houjun stared at the paneled door and froze in place.  He then diverted his eye towards the younger man, his fiery hair shimmering in the faint candlelight.  They were so close he could hear Genrou breathing, heard his own heart beat.  The scant space between them seemed to come alive, drawing him.  He wanted…something he couldn't put a name to.

The bandit's pupils eclipsed the gold irises as they held the monk captive in silence.  The younger man then lowered his head, their breaths mingling.

Abruptly, Genrou jerked back, exhaling in a ragged rush.  Then he started up the flight of stairs, tugging roughly.  "C'mon.  I better get you up to Nyan Nyan before…"

"Before what, no da?"

"Before…" He stopped again and stared at the older man before shaking his head.  "Never mind."

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

Genrou found sleep difficult as the night wore on.  His thoughts were centered on a certain blue-haired monk.  He had never felt this way about anyone before, as though he had known him his entire life.  And that warm chocolate gaze that could see through him, straight to his soul…

But hearing this man blurt out that he thought he was beautiful was the clencher for the hapless bandit.  That was why he had to probe about Houjun's vows, to find out if there could be a chance for a relationship between them.  Of course, not that would ever work out between them anyway.  Even if the older man wasn't repulsed by the idea of being with another man, he had that little girl with him.  Plus he himself had a mission of his own and couldn't put it off because of personal pleasure.

A knock at the door scattered his thoughts and he rose to answer it.  He was pleasantly surprised to find said monk waiting outside with a small smile.  "Houjun?"

"Gomen nasai, no da."

Genrou was immediately worried and his brow furrowed.  "Is Nyan Nyan okay?"

"Oh, she's fine.  Sound asleep, na no da."

"Then why…?"

"Something's bothering me, no da."

"Well, come in then, baka."  He stepped aside and let Houjun enter his room.  The monk took a seat on his otherwise untouched bed and folded his hands in his lap.  Genrou closed the door and let out his breath.  "You look like you got some heavy shit on your mind."

Houjun nodded.  "Hai.  There's a question I've been meaning to ask you, no da."

"Shoot."

"If you are a bandit, then why are you traveling alone, no da?"

"I guess because you could say that I'm on a quest of sorts."

"A quest, no da?"

Genrou nodded as he sat beside the monk.  "Hai.  You see, I come from a mountain stronghold and when our current leader dies, I'm the next in line to lead the bandits.  But I may be assuming the position sooner than I think because our current leader is sick.  I really admire the guy.  I mean, you should see him fight.  He's a man among men, as it were."

"If he's better than you, then I would be very impressed, no da.  I suppose then that you're looking for a cure for his disease, na no da?"

"Hai.  Everyone seemed to accept that he's gone, but he ain't.  He's still alive and young and strong, and I'm not going to give up."  Genrou clenched his fists so hard that they trembled.

Houjun reached over and covered his hands.  "That's very noble, no da.  It's no wonder that you're next in line for the position of leader, even as young as you are, no da."

"What about you?"  The younger man looked up to meet Houjun's gaze.  "Why are you wandering around if you're a monk?  And with that child no less?"

The older man averted his eyes for a moment before taking in a deep breath.  "I lost everything and everyone I had ever known to a flood six years ago, no da.  I was taken in by some passing monks and eventually I was charged with helping this child find her home, na no da.  I was told that I couldn't meet my destiny until then, no da."

"Is that where you got your scar…during that flood?"  Genrou reached up and traced the perimeter of healed flesh with his index finger, but his eyes never left Houjun's.

"H-hai.  I lost it in that flood as well, no da."  The older man's hands fluttered nervously back to his lap as an alien sensation raged through his body.

"But where did you learn that magic?  From the monks?"

"Iya.  It's a natural talent, no da.  I've been developing it during my travels, na no da."

Genrou's attention immediately fell to the floor as his hand dropped away from Houjun's face.

"Nani?"

"I was just wondering…  Have you really given vows of poverty and chastity?"

Houjun gasped, completely knocked off-kilter by the question once again.  The feel of this enticing young man so near, his warmth reaching out to enfold him, threatened to overwhelm him with forbidden sensation.  To forestall his answer, he stared at his hands, which he had clasped in his lap.

"Well, I did spend three years living and training at the monastery, no da.  I didn't quite take the requisite steps to formally join their number, na no da." 

A golden gaze narrowed on the short azure hair of the older man's bowed head.  Though it was an honest response, it wasn't the complete answer.  "Is becoming a monk what you wish to do with you life?" Genrou probed further while threading a hand through the silky blue of his hair.  "Do you want to spend the rest of your days in a monastery?"

These questions were even harder to answer than his first.  Refusing to yield to a gentle tugging meant to tilt his face upward, Houjun hesitated.  "I left the monastery of my own free will to find my destiny, no da.  I'm only a novice.  My vows haven't been formalized, na no da.  And for the past three years I've been distracted in my quest to help Nyan Nyan."

Sparks glittered in Genrou's eyes as he found this revelation oddly pleasing.  

"I know that I don't have anywhere else to go, ever since my home was destroyed by that flood, no da.  However, with my tainted past, I don't think I truly belong anywhere anymore."

"Maybe it's just me, Houjun," Genrou began with tentativeness foreign to him.  "But you seem like a welcome part of my life."

Wonderment glowed in Houjun's wide eye while a shy smile bloomed.  Taught that material goods were to be banished along with the sinful pride they caused, Houjun had never been given such a gift since the flood.  Now he felt as if this beautiful man had given him a star from the very heavens.

"Arigatou, no da."

With soft words, Genrou had gently unwrapped and opened his secret vision of a tempting future.  It was a wishful fantasy that he hadn't acknowledged even privately for fear that a deed so bold might rip his fragile dream.

The bandit tilted his head in self-mockery.  In truth he desired the beguiling man, but not merely for the physical aspect he knew could be theirs.  He longed as much for Houjun to be his companion in sharing both life's joys and inevitable sorrows.

Genrou abruptly realized by Houjun's faint frown that the older man was concerned by his lengthening silence.  With a fanged smile, he calmed his friend's distress.

Houjun nibbled on his lower lip.  With that golden gaze focused steadily upon him and its source so near, increased awareness played havoc with rational thought.  The instinct to flee was strong, but stronger still was the wish to be closer.  It was stupid really to test his willpower by close proximity to that beautiful face framed in a wealth of fiery locks and eyes melted to liquid gold.

Houjun stopped breathing beneath the intensity of those eyes.  Not even to save his soul from perdition could he have broken the visual bond with the source of thrilling currents jolting from Genrou's vibrant body to his own.

Feeling as if he were caught in the daze between sleep and full wakefulness, drawn by powers as strong as a god's, Genrou leaned closer to Houjun…  In the last instant turned his mouth from the older man's to brush a far less dangerous whisper of a kiss across his scarred cheek.

Despite those questions and his answers, somewhere in his depths, Houjun suspected that this incredible man who'd easily claimed his heart would not take from him the one possession he knew he'd been raised to regard as most precious, chastity.  But if this were to be his only chance for love and pleasure shared, he would seize the prize no matter the cost.

Willfully closing his mind to all rational warnings, Houjun mentally lashed his courage into supporting body actions.  Nearly as much to his surprise as Genrou's, Houjun's hands slid up over a tunic covering the powerful contours of his chest, explored the dip at the base of his sun-bronzed throat, and brushed across a cheek to twine into flaming strands.

Genrou felt Houjun tremble, heard the tiny catch in his breath, and his blood caught fire, racing through his veins with the speed of a windswept flame.  His bright head turned the whisper of distance to bury his mouth against the satin curve of skin between the monk's throat and shoulder.

Houjun instinctively arched his throat into the heat of Genrou's kiss.  Then, sensing alluring pleasures just beyond reach, he nestled closer until powerful arms wrapped him within a fierce embrace.

A soft moan would have escaped him then but for Genrou's hungry mouth brushing repeatedly across his, enticing his lips to part.  When they opened to the heat of joining, the kiss immediately deepened, whirling Houjun into a chasm of fiery delights.

Soft lips pressing curious little kisses against Genrou's throat curled into a delighted smile with the discovery of a rapidly beating pulse.  Tongue venturing out, Houjun tasted the flavor of skin vibrating with a groan rumbling from the bandit's depths as he moved his mouth slowly down to nuzzle the catches holding the neck of the younger man's tunic closed.

Genrou twisted the fingers of one hand in the tangle of cerulean falling past the nape of Houjun's neck.  Gently, insistently he tugged the older man's head back until he could recapture his teasing mouth and teach him all the devastating pleasures a kiss could contain.

Time seemed to melt into an unpredictable sea of pleasure and fiery sensation until the moment when Genrou pulled completely free of Houjun's arms.  A small whimper escaped from his throat but became a sigh of admiration as the bandit stripped off his tunic in a single smooth motion so rapid that Houjun's first sight of his bare masculine chest was a brief glimpse of rippling muscles.  Only after Genrou turned full attention to ridding the monk of his clothing with even greater haste was Houjun able to focus a curious, unblinking eye on the stunning male beauty of his form.

Genrou immediately lowered himself to lie at Houjun's side and pull him into the hungry cradle of his arms.  Smoothing his hands over the strong muscles of the younger man's back, Houjun clung to him.  Genrou savored the complete yielding of the older man's deliciously slender body to the contours of his own.  Breath caught in Houjun's throat only to sigh out in little gasps as the younger man's mouth trailed fires of tender torment over the gentle valleys of his chest.

Driven by this shocking delight into a fiery sea of need, Houjun writhed with innocent abandon against Genrou, wanting to be nearer, wanting something more.  The tiny, inarticulate sounds welling up from the older man's core were more than he could resist.  Genrou turned him full into his embrace, hands sliding down his back, caressing and cupping his ass to mold his appealing form ever more tightly against his need.

Lost in a dark vortex of wicked delights, Houjun pressed even closer, twisting with enticing motions, pushing Genrou to the edge of his control.  The bandit began to rock against Houjun in a stimulating rhythm born with the dawn of time but when the passionate monk instinctively matched the motion, he abruptly pulled free to dispense with the last piece of clothing, the final physical barrier.

Desperate to lure him back, Houjun reached over to wrap his fingers around the bandit's steely length.  Genrou arched into that tentative touch, reveling in the trembling of his fingertips against his pulsing member, as he coated his own fingers in his saliva.

With gentleness, Genrou urged Houjun to lie back.  Then, sliding one leg between his slender thighs, he shifted and inserted his moist digit to prepare his lover for what was to come next.  Resting on his forearms to spare him his full weight, Genrou gazed down into a gaze dark with wanting, watching for the first hint of discomfort as he positioned himself and pressed intimately nearer.

Aware only of the gentle abrasion of the bandit's skin against his, Houjun moaned with erotic delight.  The sudden stab of pain was quickly lost amid a multitude of stinging pleasures.

With hard, sharp movements and a rhythm that grew wilder and wilder, Genrou rocked them both deeper into the delicious torment and anguished hungers at the peak of the fiercest flames.  Incredible pleasures seared every nerve until the blaze impossibly sweet exploded in unfathomable ecstasy.

"Aishiteru…" Amid glittering sparks of satisfaction, Genrou's words were barely intelligible growl, but Houjun heard them.

When Genrou gazed down into that beautiful scarred visage, he was distressed to discover tears.  "You're crying."  He feared that he had caused the older man even greater pain.

But Houjun simply shook his head as he held the bandit to him, smiling contentedly.  "Arigatou, Genrou."

The bandit tilted his head up and stole one more kiss before snuggling into that embrace.  He fell asleep with a comfort and peace overwhelming his soul, one that he'd never felt in all his life.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

The redhead awoke only to discover that Houjun had left him alone sometime during the night.  He knew that if he checked the room he had given the monk and his child companion that he'd find it unoccupied as well.  But the feeling from last night remained despite the monk's absence.  For him, what he and Houjun had shared was more than a bonding of their flesh, but of their souls as well. 

He was glad for those stolen moments of passion with the older man because there was really no way for them to have stayed together at this point in their lives, Houjun helping his young charge and he finding a cure for his ailing leader.  But at least the monk could have said goodbye.

It was then that he took notice of a small pouch on the end table near the bed.  Upon opening it, he found several slips of paper inscribed with runes he could not decipher.  There was also a note:

"I'm sorry for leaving you in this manner, but I had to return to my quest, as you must renew your search as well.  I know our paths crossed yesterday for a purpose or else I don't think I would have fallen so hard for you despite knowing you for as short a time as I did.  I pray that fate will allow us to meet again and that our journey might be made together.

"Last night, you had given me so much more than you can imagine and I'll always treasure the memories I have of you.  I hope you will look back as well with fondness despite the gravity of our initial encounter. 

"I can't help you, I'm afraid, in curing your leader despite my magic, but maybe these will come in handy during your travels.  They are talismans that conjure an illusion of whatever you wish.  All you have to do is write what you want to appear.

"I wish you well.  May Suzaku bless you and protect you always.  Aishiteru."

Genrou smiled as he sighed.  He already had Suzaku's blessing and protection as the seishi Tasuki, but he would trade it all if but to be with Houjun forever.  But who knew what the future would bring or where his path might lead.

"May Suzkau bless and protect you too, Houjun…koi…"  


	2. A sequel, because you demanded it

Crossed Paths

*part 2

By Sakata Ri Houjun

~***~

When I wrote this story, I had originally decided that it was to be a one-shot fic, simply because I had a lemon scene written between Tasuki and Chichiri, but no story to put it in. So, going with the scene where Tasuki explains the origin of his talisman, how they came from a mage, and both their respective Gaiden novels, which should be animated desperately, I created 'Crossed Paths'.

However, due to the overwhelming response from fellow fans, it seems that I have little choice but to create a sequel of sorts, maybe even turn it into a serial. Who says those who review with positive feedback don't have the power?

Warning: Starts off with some lime moments here and there, but will end with a reuniting lemon.

~***~

It was dusk and the already the stars were gleaming in the darkening sky. Through the open canopy of the trees, golden eyes searched among the celestial wonders, trying to locate the one formation that defined who he was, not that he really believed in any of that nonsense about protecting some unknown girl from another world. Destiny or not, he wasn't following a chick.

But easily, he located Tasuki, the crater, his namesake. "What a load of fucking bull," he scoffed ruefully as he closed his eyes.

Upon opening them again, he noticed how majestic everything seemed, so quiet and peaceful. The redhead had been traveling all day and was tired. But gods, he hated having to walk everywhere, how much easier things would be if only he could do something cool like teleport. But he supposed that Suzaku had a twisted sense of humor, granting him only speed.

Even if he was forced to protect this girl, he certainly had a weak power. Not that he was weak at all.

But even his speed could not get him nearly fast enough to the next town, so here he was, camping out under the stars. Not that he didn't mind it at all. Out here, all alone, lying back on the cool grass staring up at the stars gave him time to think, room to himself.

And that's when his mind would wander.

'_You know_,' he thought to himself. '_The sky looks the same as it did when I first met him..._'

****

Him. Houjun. The beautiful scarred monk who he met by chance one fateful night. A night just like this one. A meeting that changed his life, bestowed him something that Genrou never thought he'd ever receive. Love.

An all-too-brief tryst that was imbedded vividly into the young bandit's mind. Every caress and whisper. Every moan and shared kiss. 

Even now, repeating that exquisite memory inside his mind played havoc with his senses. He swore he could almost feel the older man against him, his slender, pale hands moving along his body, teasing him with loving touches. He would whisper promises into his ear, warm breath tickling along the delicate ridges just moments before a moist tongue would thrust inside.

Then Houjun would start to nibble at his throat, his hands tangling in the younger man's fiery locks. Genrou would moan, heartbeat racing wanting more as he moved his arms to pull his love against him. But always, the bandit would clutch nothing but empty air before opening his eyes, his heart aching.

Gods, how he missed his koi. Why should he feel this connected to someone he barely knew? Would he feel this way if they had never made love that night? Would he still yearn to be with the mysterious mage, feeling as though his soul were half complete?

Slowly, Genrou's fingers moved down to the small leather pouch tied at his waist. Houjun's parting gift. He still carried the note as well, his reminder that the monk did in fact love him although he never did say the words, that what they shared ran deeper than just physical fulfillment.

A month had passed since that night, give or take a few days. And even though the young bandit had desperately tried to return to his quest, he found himself seriously distracted by thoughts of the cerulean-haired man who haunted even his waking moments. So, Genrou had no choice but to return to Mount Leikaku, resigning himself to defeat.

He had been gone a year already from his home, and he figured that it was high time he should check in, if nothing else but to reassure his fellow brigands that he was still alive and kicking. Besides, it would be good to catch up with Kouji, who had been like his brother, and Hakurou, who like the father that never existed for Genrou.

And just another day and he'd be near Souun, which was at the very base of his home. If he pushed his speed, he could be back at the base by tomorrow night. Just one more day of traveling and then he'd be drinking with his buddies, laughing it up with Kouji, and spending time with his idol. That made the young redhead smile. 

But it didn't help the emptiness in his heart, the part that Houjun had taken with him when he left.

"Oyasumi nasai, Houjun. I wish ya were here with me right now, koi..." he murmured softly as he closed his eyes with a tired sigh, falling asleep beneath the stars.

*~~~*

Chichiri sighed rather bored-like as he rested his head back against the plush satin pillows of Hotohori's bed. When he had agreed to take the emperor's place, he had no idea of how uneventful this job could be. Had he known, he probably would have stayed with Miaka and Nuriko in searching out the remaining seishi two weeks ago.

Hell, he would have preferred Miaka biting his hands again over this perpetual insipidness. And who knew, traveling with his fellow seishi might have him running into Genrou, should Suzaku be so willing and gracious.

Genrou. Just the thought of the fiery youth's name brought an unbidden sigh to the monk's lips as they turned upwards into a smile.

Chichiri had been raised with strict principles, taught that not only homosexuality was morally demeaning but that giving oneself without the proper bonds of marriage was dishonorable. But if that was the case, then why did it feel so right to offer his virginity to the younger man?

He never felt this happy before in his life, not even before the flood when it seemed that his fate was bound to his childhood sweetheart. Those stolen and forbidden moments of pleasure had eased the burden of loneliness off of his heart, granting the magically gifted seishi the ability to grow wigs and fly free of any earthy bindings, or so it seemed.

He nearly laughed as he wondered what Genrou would have thought about him being a Suzaku seishi. Certainly the bandit would be surprised, shocked even. Not that he couldn't blame him, he had been just as stunned the day he found out about his preordained destiny as one of Suazku's chosen, being told as a small child about the future that lay before him.

At the time, he thought it was the single greatest thing to have happened to him. Everyone in his village suddenly revered him, as though he were a deity of sorts. But once the novelty wore off for Chichiri back then, did he notice how ostracized he became among his friends.

That's when he realized he wasn't normal, and could never lead a normal life, no matter how hard he tried. Only Kouran and Hikou remained steadfast in their friendship to him, that is until the flood. And of course his family; he was very close to his older brother and younger sister. But growing up as a teen with that type of knowledge on his head made him rather introverted and quiet, a trait that still stuck with him to this very day, making him hide behind his mask instead of being open.

But Genrou had changed that part of himself, opening up his heart to such an intense emotion that it still scared him at times, overwhelming his mind with how much he yearned to be with the younger man. And in the silence of the spacious bedchambers, the monk could close his eye and recall that one shinning moment where he fell in love with the fiery youth, that instant where Genrou had released him from the bonds of his loneliness.

The bandit's warmth was imprinted on his skin, branding him with such a searing heat that sent his heart racing to new speeds. He could hear his love whispering into his ear, teasing him with words just as easily was he had with his hands and lips, promising an eternity of love.

Chichiri sighed again, tears prickling the back of his lone eye as ardently wished that he could go back to that one night, choosing instead to stay by Genrou's side, forsaking his vow to help Nyan Nyan, his destiny as a Suzaku seishi, everything, just so he could remain forever with the one he loved.

His heart sent out a silent prayer as tears trickled down his ivory cheeks, begging Suzaku to bring Genrou back into his life, if even for a moment, just so he could say the words he never said aloud that night.

*~~~*

'_Why the fuck am I doing this?_' Tasuki wondered to himself for perhaps the umpteenth time that afternoon.

He couldn't understand it himself, why he had actually opted to leave his coveted post as the leader of the Leikaku bandits to follow a girl of all things. He believed that whole legend to be utter nonsense until the night he met Miaka, an upstart of a girl who not only managed to help retrieve Hakurou's stolen tessen but smacked him, wasted Houjun's' precious gift, and nearly ate the stronghold's supply of food all in one night.

But Tasuki had made his decision long ago to never follow the Suzaku no Miko. He had vowed to Hakurou that he would remain faithful only to the bandits and the holy mountain they protected. Never mind that he also promised Reirei as she died that he would fulfill his destiny.

So he told one tiny fib, thinking they wouldn't need him. However, after having a heart to heart with his old pal, Kouji, he realized he had no choice in the matter, especially when the dark-haired bandit revealed that Hakurou's' last wish was that Genrou was that he would go out and follow his destiny as Tasuki. It had long been deemed that he must go. Besides, what bigger honor was there than in helping to protect his country, his home?

And other than that, they were traveling as well, so if Suzaku really did care at all, the flaming chicken might actually reunite him with his beloved Houjun.

But so far, all they did was just wander aimless about, led by a glowing sphere that would conjure a kanji whenever they got close to another Suzaku seishi. And now they were entering the outskirts of Konan-koku, reuniting with the his brethren warriors.

But after spending several weeks on the road, listening to Miaka gush about her Tamahome, the prissy Hotohori mooning over Miaka, the okama Nuriko pouting over Hotohori's inattentiveness, Mitsukake's unbearable and stoic silence, and Chiriko's irritating flute, the bandit was about to call it quits and hightail it back to his mountain.

Just down the road they were heading, Hotohori leading the way on the only horse, Miaka astride the mount as well, Tasuki cold see what he assumed to be the imperial palace looming up ahead, awe-inspiring and imposing all at once. He had never traveled this far from Leikaku before, even when searching for a cure for Hakurou's sickness.

At first, he was certain that they weren't heading to the palace, that their destination was just past it or something. However, Hotohori continued to lead their mismatched party straight to the main gates, the sentry moving aside and bowing respectfully without even a question to their identities. Tasuki blinked in confusion at the irony of the situation, a bandit being welcomed into the imperial palace. Would wonders never cease?

Once they were in the outer courtyard, Hotohori assisted Miaka off of the gelding. "My companions, go on ahead, I will see this fine animal to the stables," the brunette said before reigning the horse around a corner, away from their view.

At that point, Miaka and Nuriko excitedly led the three newest seishi into the main courtyard. Even Tasuki could feel their anticipation, actually it was rather contagious. The bandit's heart raced quickly as he took in he splendor of the ornate gardens, the intricate carvings. He'd been a bandit all his young adult life, robbed quite a few dignitaries, but never before had he laid eyes on such grandeur.

Then suddenly, his keen senses could hear the rapid pattering of feet running on marble floors, growing louder as whomever it was nearing their party. Quickly, Tasuki looked up just in time to see an explosion of smoke from which a blue missile launched itself at Miaka, latching on tightly.

"Welcome back, no da!" a high-pitched voice cried out joyfully.

Tasuki jumped back in surprise, startled out of his wits by this unexpected entrance by this unusual...creature. Miaka's obango hairstyle effectively blocked his view of whomever it was that the Miko was greeting. 

Pointing in accusation, the bandit blurted out, "What the fuck is that?"

Behind his mask, Chichiri felt his face flush unnaturally at the sound of that scared voice. '_Masaka, it couldn't' be, no da_,' he thought as he peered around Miaka, only to see a pair of wild golden eyes framed by sooty lashes and crowned by a wreath of flaming hair, like the setting sun. A living flame that warmed the monk straight to his heart.

Nuriko laughed at Tasuki's reaction. "Only Chichiri, one of the Suzaku Shichiseishi like us."

But Tasuki didn't hear what the violet-haired cross dresser was saying, his eyes were riveted on the perpetual smile of the monk, the shock of blue hair spearing up to the sky, matching the serene colors exactly. His heart sped up, not quite believing what he was seeing; the whole scenario seemed too unreal.

Without a word, Chichiri extracted himself from Miaka's embrace and walked over to the bandit, his blood boiling with so many uncontrollable emotions as he neared the younger man. Summoning all his discipline that his training had provided, he managed to hold out one hand steadily, offering a formal and casual greeting towards the redhead while his heart was urging him to tackle him to the ground instead and lavishing his love with passionate kisses.

"Ore wa Chichiri, no da," he introduced himself, his voice no louder than a choked whisper that only Tasuki could hear.

With a trembling hand, the bandit returned the greeting, fingers firmly grasping the monk's. "Tasuki," he returned, his voice wavering ever so slightly with pent up emotion.

The Miko and the other seishi's questioning stares disappeared into nothingness as they continued to hold onto each other's hands, not saying a word, but eyes locked and speaking volumes.

The spell was broken by Hotohori's entrance, the shock of finding out that the priss was in fact the emperor overriding Tasuki's overwhelming happiness at finding Houjun again. At least for the moment.

*~~~*

Chichiri made his way back to his room, utterly exhausted from maintaining that spell so that his Miko could communicate with Tamahome. Well, at least the plans were finalized and ready for tomorrow night's venture into enemy territory.

Now, the only thing on his mind was Genrou. No, not Genrou. He was Tasuki.

He had hoped to Suzaku that he would be reunited with his love, but like this? Certainly the possibility was there, in fact it might even explain why he had been so attracted to the younger man in the first place, the instant connection that allowed him to fall so hard for the redhead.

He wanted to so desperately talk with his beloved, to ask why he never told him. But unfortunately, Hotohori had ordered a grand feast prepared and then he had to plan Tamahome's rescue with Miaka after that. It was one thing after another.

Chichiri opened the door to his chambers and was immediately pulled into a warm embrace, a familiar scent wrapping around him. The monk immediate melted into Tasuki's arms, hands gripping at the bandit's shirt as his lips eagerly sought out his love's.

The kiss was filled with an urgency, as though both men had been lost in a desert without sustenance and now they had found an eternal spring to quench their thirst. Greedily they drank, submerging within the other, unintelligible noises pouring from them as their embrace tightened.

Finally the need for air prompted the pair of lovers to pull away, but not too far, Chichiri not wanting to let go for fear that it was another dream. But it was no dream, it was reality. Suzaku had brought his fiery bandit back to him, the one person in this or any other world who made him feel complete, who filled him to overflowing with happiness.

Tasuki smoothed his hands through the monk's short hair, golden eyes filling with tears. "Houjun... You have no idea what's it's been like with you, koi..."

Chichiri pressed his fingers against Tasuki's lips, silencing him with just the gentlest of touches. "I've been praying to Suzaku that we'd meet again, no da. But I had no idea that you were a seishi as well..."

Tasuki kissed those fingers lovingly, lavishing such attention on them that it made the monk blush, even through the mask. "I don't ever want you to leave me again. It's been fucking torture, knowing that you left without even saying goodbye."

The monk quickly pulled his hand away, but only to tug his mask off, flinging the paper object away so Tasuki could see hi expression, the truth. "You are all that I have, Genrou. All I have ever had. All that I will ever want on this earth."

Before the bandit could think or reply, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to the younger man's. He slid closer, pressing their chests together, twining fingers in his untamed hair and stroking his lips with his tongue. Chichiri's mouth moved against Tasuki's with a skill that made the bandit's body harden and strain for release.

Then suddenly they were on the monk's bed, mouth to mouth, chest to chest, hip to hip. The older seishi rained kisses across his face, and the bandit reveled in the gentle urgency of his touch. He had not realized how very much he had craved the monk's touch, how much he wanted this beautiful man who loved him until this moment, feeling it all the way to his wildly beating heart.

He tried very hard to be gentle, to go slow. But the passion they had survived on in each other's absence soared out of control. Having already given his innocence to Tasuki before, Chichiri possessed no shyness in touching him now. His knuckles brushed the hardness beneath his pants and the bandit tensed. Then with a smile, the monk curled his fingers about him and pressed his palm to his fullness, flexing and cupping in a rhythm.

Tasuki gritted his teeth and grasped the monk's wrist, but he made a sound of denial and struggled to touch his lover again, pressing his mouth against the redhead's and using his tongue to drive him to distraction.

All Tasuki's good intentions fled, and he tore at Chichiri's clothes in his desire to feel his firm, soft flesh in his hands. The cerulean-haired man sighed deep in his throat when his calloused palms rubbed along the planes of his chest, thumbs stroking his nipples. Tasuki pulled his mouth from his lover's only to see the older seishi's expression reflecting pleasure, lips swollen, mouthing his name, and when he lowered his mouth to taste at his skin his gasp of delight and the firm stroke of his fingers along his shaft showed how much the monk needed this as well.

The bandit relearned the taste of Chichiri. He memorized the softness of his skin with he tips of his fingers. He made them both mad with desire, and when the monk begged him to love him, his own clothing joined Chichiri's on the floor as he lifted himself above him.

They were both damp with sweat and breathless with the wonder of each other. Tasuki gently probed at his love's tight entrance with moist fingers, hesitant to hurt him, but the monk's eye opened, dazed, glazed, and he rose to meet the bandit, impaling himself on Tasuki's shaft, then pulling him all the way into his body.

The redhead heard not a whisper of pain form his love's mouth, only his name and endearments met his ears before he lost all sense of anything but the two of them, like it had been when he held Chichiri's hand in the courtyard. He slid in and out of the older man's body in the rhythm as old as eternity. 

Chichiri had never felt so complete in all his life. He at last knew what it was like to posses for an instant all that was important in the world.

Tasuki held back his release while the monk's muscles clamped down around him. Chichiri's breath caught in surprise and wonder as the bandit sank himself into his welcoming warmth one last time and they rode the waves of pleasure together, fully joined as they should be.

When they both lay spent and exhausted, Chichiri cupped Tasuki's head with his slender hands and lifted his face so he could stare into his golden eyes. He smiled a new smile, one that erased the ever-present sadness in his remaining mahogany orb.

How wonderful their joining felt. So right. So complete. But different than the last time, and that difference Chichiri had to voice. "Genrou, aishiteru..." he whispered, his breath brushing Tasuki's cheek. "I should have said it that first time but I was afraid that we wouldn't be able to stay together."

The bandit's eyes stared into Chichiri's, searching. Then he lowered his forehead to the older seishi's, and his hair slid against the monk's temples, causing a shiver of awareness to chill the his bare flesh. Chichiri kissed Tasuki then with his whole heart and soul. He clung to the younger man as he'd just scant moments before, proving, if his words had not already, that he did love him.

"Y-ya won't leave me again?" Tasuki questioned once he pulled away.

Chichiri shook his head. "I will never leave you. Always I will be right here." He put his palm against the left side of the bandit's tan chest, memorizing the strength and the warmth of his Tasuki. "Even when you cannot see me or touch me."

The bandit placed his hand over Chichiri's, holding him to his heart. "I never want to spend another day apart from you."

The corners of Chichiri's lips turned upward in a smile full of promise. "What about the nights, no da?"

The redhead laughed as he settled firmly into the warm embrace of his lover. "It doesn't matter when it is, I will go where you go, because I love you with all my heart."

The monk settled back against the pillows, eye closing with a sigh born from pure happiness, arms tightening around his fiery lover. And before he slipped away into peaceful dreams, he whispered, "Arigatou, Suzaku-sama..."


End file.
